Harry Potter and The Hidden Reader
by helencheddar
Summary: Lyra finds herself in the wizarding world and is hiding there from the newly reformed Magisterium, but trouble arises when the Magisterium begins spreading to other worlds, and an even bigger battle is yet to be won.   Continued from Hellioness.
1. Bench In the Rain

**CHAPTER ONE: BENCH IN THE RAIN**

Rain poured down on Lyra's face. The cold boards of the bench in the botanical gardens jabbed into her back as she tried desperately to stay awake after days and days of running. Pan was huddling between her shoulders, failing to keep warm. She shivered.

"So, are we living here?" Pan asked sarcastically.

"Where do you suggest we should go?" she retorted.

"I wasn't 'suggesting' anything."

"Well, you've gotta admit," he sniggered, "This is _way _better than Saint Sophia's."

"Yeah, '_speak only when spoken to... curtsy, now, chin up'_!"

They laughed, but soon sobered up, realizing that they couldn't live like this for long. They had nowhere to go. Dame Hannah was the new chairwoman of the Magesterium, and when they fled to Jordan, they had found that the Master was dead. To make matters worse, he had been replaced by none other than Fra Pavel. The gyptians got a head start and were now in Albania, so she had absolutely no way to get back to the North. The magasterium was after her. Their plan was to start over and the only thing standing in their way was her.

"We could swim there,"

"Yeah, and freeze to death."

"But... never mind."

They lay there in silence, their eyes fogged by rain drops. She shivered. They slid into a deep, uneasy sleep.

_**end of chapter one**_


	2. The Wooden Trunk

**CHAPTER TWO: THE WOODEN TRUNK**

Harry listened to the rain pour down on the windowpane. He tried not to fall asleep, but at least Dudley wasn't there to torture him about it. He kept having the same nightmare, Voldemort's flattened face, Cedric being murdered, the corpse staring vacantly at him. Dust floated in the thin ray of moonlight. For once he ignored the burning of his scar.

One more night to go. One more night to -he slipped into his usual nightmare. Voldemort was brandishing his wand like a sword, about to strike. He desperately looked behind him as he began to get smaller and smaller, the dark lord was looming over him. Then he appeared in a long windowless hallway with one door on the end. He ran for it as his head swam. Then he lunged toward a doorknob. In the room he saw a faint glimmer behind him. The glimmer clarified and revealed itself as a bench. He leapt at it, instinctually expecting a way out, and then he saw a figure sitting next to him on the bench. The thing was wearing black robes that made it look eerily like a small dementor. It turned around and looked him in the eye.

"Wake up, Wake_ up_!" Hemione screamed as she shook him viciously.

He was drenched in sweat and his heart was pounding rapidly.

"We're going to be late!"

Harry made a mad dash for the stairs. He was finally going to leave the old damp house and the shrilly-screaming portrait behind. He was going home.

Lyra rolled over in her sleep.

"Will," she muttered, "are you sure your daemon 'ent a cupcake?"

She woke with a thud on the hard brick pavement at the edge of Platform 9. Her misty eyes opened lazily as she saw the high arched ceilings at King's Cross Station. She got up stiffly and stood quickly enough to see a few children about a year younger than her _walk through_ the wall separating platforms nine and ten. She rubbed her eyes and looked again. More people walked through the wall, this time they were two boys and a girl. One boy having black hair and a scar on his forehead while the other had fiery red hair. The girl's hair was light brown and matted. She cringed when she saw that the boys' daemons, both owls, were kept in cages while the girl's tawny cat daemon roamed free. She followed the three through the wall and onto Platform nine and three quarters.

The train was about to leave and she knew that they would spot her without them. She had learnt a thing or two from Will.

"Here are some reinforcements for your robes and books. I also packed you an extra wand, so don't come crying to me if you lose it,"

said an old woman to who she guessed to be her grandson. She handed him a small wooden trunk. He put it down for just a minute to

fish his pocket for a ticket. Lyra slid over to the trunk and snatched it before he even knew what hit him. She knew she had just found

a one way ticket out of her world.

_**end of chapter two**_

**CHAPTER THREE: FRED, GEORGE, AND THE FUGITIVE**


	3. Fred, George, and the Fugitive

**CHAPTER THREE: FRED, GEORGE, AND THE FUGITIVE**

"I could've sworn it was _right there_!" Neville pleaded.

"Well, just don't lose anything else," Hemione sighed wearily.

They boarded the train and Hermione and Ron soon departed. Harry slumped down into a seat next to Luna Lovegood. A girl in about her third year slouched next to Neville, but soon shot up and kicked her trunk out of sight. Something golden and furry quivered around her neck.

"Hey! Isn't that... never mind," said Neville, "She only packed my first year books anyway. I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

The hood of her school robes hid her face. Harry saw the darkened shadow of her face. The gears of his mind began whirring frantically. She was the figure from his dream. Was it really a dream? Why was she here?

"Who are you?" Ginny asked kindly.

"Lizzie Brooks," she said flatly, "and you?"

"Ginny Weasley."

"Where's you daemon?"

"My what?"

"Nothing."

"Hey, did we miss anything?" Ron had just come back, Hermione was behind him.

"Oh..."Hermione's voice dropped, "There's only room for one more, I'll just..."

Lyra emerged from the seat, "I'll just leave."

"_Will _you?" Hermione said hopefully.

Lyra twitched as she always did when she heard the word. She also cringed to the words cut, sever, Roger, and world. She looked around. The only place where there was room was a small compartment containing two boys about five years older than her that seemed to look exactly alike. They looked very similar to the girl across from her and the boy who had just arrived in the compartment, but she didn't have time to study ancestry. She sat down in the compartment. The brothers glanced at her, but soon got back to their conversation.

"So, he says to me, 'dat Roger will sever the best beef cut in the world!'" said Fred. Both of them began to laugh hysterically for a while, that was, until they saw Lyra finish a fit of twitching. They stared at her for a long time.

"What?"

They didn't reply, but instead murmured to each other as if she had vanished.

"Not another mad one."

"Looks like she's got a jinx on her, poor thing."

"What?" Lyra pressed, "a girl can't twitch, can she? If _you_ knew..."

She looked toward the ground.

"Never mind."

"What? Hey, where are you from anyway?" asked George.

"Not here," she replied, "No, I'm from somewhere far away. You wouldn't know it. It's called Oxford."

"We've been there loads of times," said Fred.

"Believe me, you haven't."

They were all silent for what seemed like hours until Fred said, "Who are you?"

"Lizzie Brooks," she lied.

The other of the two pulled out a small glass orb that was hissing and vibrating furiously.

"We know when you're lying," he said, "Guess again."

"Fine," she sighed, "Lyra Silvertoungue. Don't say a word of that to anyone else, I'm Lizzie, got it?"

She closed the door to the compartment.

"Why, are you a fugitive?" Fred joked.

"You could say that."

_**End of chapter three**_


	4. The Last of the Sorted

**CHAPTER FOUR: THE LAST OF THE SORTED**

Fred and George left the Hogwarts Express still gaping, open-mouthed at Lyra's story. Sure, many things had happened to them, but when they rarely did something truly heroic, they would always get praise, no matter how little. She was, apparently, the new devil.

Harry was starting to notice that Fred and George were acting differently after they left the train. They weren't joking and laughing as they always did, but walking silently with that girl he saw in the dream. Soon everyone sat down at the house tables.

Dumbledore stood in front of them all and soon they all fell silent. Lyra's eyes glittered as she stepped into what looked to be the dining hall. The ceiling was set to look like the night sky, in a method unknown to her. The entire academy was set as elaborately as any of the finest colleges. She was home.

Fred pointed his wand at the list of the students about to be sorted and began to mutter an incantation. Lizzie Brooks was hastily scribbled at the end of the list.

Harry and Ron were nearly dieing of starvation when Dumbledore called out Zwiren, Steven, and groaned slightly as Dumbledore looked puzzled at the list for a while before saying anything. He shakily called out, "Brooks, Lizzie."

The girl that had sat down next to them on the train earlier stood up slowly and walked up to the stool in the front of the hall. She tried as best she could to walk nervously up the isle, as she had watched all the other children do, Pan hidden in he slightly too large school clothes. Once she had gotten past the amazement of seeing a talking hat, she had suddenly become aware that she would have to lie nonstop, not that that was ever a problem. They lifted the oversized old hat over her head. She looked up at it in fear, trying desperately not to laugh.

"Hmm..." said the hat to her. "Your definitely not a Huffleuff, Nor Ravenclaw either. You're very slick, I can tell; you think you can weasel out of any problem. You're also brave, though, braver than nearly anyone else in this room, in fact."

"Slyther-" the hat almost called out, before it said one more thing,

"Wait," it said, "You're a Muggle, aren't you. You don't belong here."

Apparently, not a single other person heard the hat say this.

"Don't ... say...a word." she muttered through gritted teeth.

"Ah... Griffindor!" it shouted.

The entire Grifindor table applauded as she walked proudly down. She sat between Fred and George, trying as best she could to keep Pan hidden. This was going to be a LONG charade.

_**End of chapter four**_


	5. Nightmares

**CHAPTER FIVE: NIGHTMARES**

The dream had returned, but with more depth than before. He was running down the corridor again, the little blonde devil awaiting him. A creature came at him from behind the door, and the little girl laughed a twisted, high pitched laugh that boomed across the small room she had dragged him into. The little girl and the animal had morphed into one, and the newly created beast lunged for him again, hissing and snarling as it descended...

"Harry, wake up!" Ron shouted as he shook him.

Harry had groggily returned to consciousness and found himself soaked in sweat, his pillow torn to shreds, his fingers bleeding. He got up and decided to skip breakfast. He would confront the little demon when he was ready ... and she wasn't holding any heavy objects.

As usual, Lyra dreamed of ghosts. This time they were lying against rows and rows of caged daemons. She was drifting down them, being a ghost herself. Will, her death, was following at her shoulders, staring at her through sunken, vacant eyes. She turned around to face him and found a harpy in his place,

"Liar liar liar liar!" it shrieked.

She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the piercing voice that shrieked in her ear. She hissed at it, but it still continued. She couldn't

fight much longer. She was losing, and she was giving up...

She gasped, and, of course, no one had bothered to wake her. Pan shivered against her neck. She slowly got up and headed out the door of her dormitory, having slept in her school robes. The boy with the caged daemon and the scar flattened against the wall as she walked past. Fred and George had been waiting for her, their faces looked oddly eager.

"Hey, we need a tester for the Fainting Fancies," said George.

"We'll pay!" added Fred.

"Here, just try this, you'll find out."

He handed her a toffee in a purple wrapper. She took it greedily, and swallowed it within half a second. She fell back slowly, and

felt the cold hard wooden floor beneath her. A swear barely escaped her lips before it had all gone black.

She had returned to the nightmare and she was sure of it. The rows and rows of cages around her had returned. Both the death- Will and the harpies had gone, and the human Will she knew and loved was standing beside her, looking wildly around in fear. She smiled for a moment, and one of the ghosts reached out at her, a ghost of herself.

She gasped, and woke up sucking on an incredibly sweet toffee.

"What happened?" she asked dizzily.

"Sorry, the urge was too strong," said Fred, stifling a laugh.

She glared at him, pondering whether to attack. Pan barely stifled a hiss.

"Well," she whispered to Pan, " You'd better hide somewhere, so they won't suspect anything."

In an instant he crawled out the neck of her robes and scurried away. Having a partially severed daemon did have its advantages. Lyra stalked off, still a little dizzy, into the dining hall. Hopefully the people in this world were stupider than they looked.

_**end of chapter five**_


	6. Knowlege

**CHAPTER SIX: KNOWLEDGE**

Pan decided to hide in the Defense Against the Dark Arts Room for the day. The rain was pouring outside and the thunder never ceased. He was glad to have the luxury of being indoors. It was a privilege he had gone nearly a year without. The horrid woman who was teaching was also the least entertaining to watch.

Pan began drifting into a stupor from the intense boredom when he heard a shout of:

"Oh, I don't know, LORD VOLDEMORT"

For some reason all the students let out a simultaneous gasp at the name. He didn't understand what all the fuss was about, but at least something was happening. Soon he got a chilling explanation.

"You've been told that a certain dark wizard is at large, _this is a lie" _she said, obviously feigning bravery.

"Wow," he whispered, "it's just like being in Saint Sophia's again."

Pan still wondered why Lyra had agreed to go to Saint Sophia's in the first place. She was still taking the whole maturity thing WAY too seriously. Hopefully she had this class after lunch, so he could warn her. Ah, lunch, how they had missed it so. Despite the woman's horrid teaching skills and possibly insanity; Pan was sure that they had gotten lucky for once.

"AH! You're right, Pan! She's worse than Dame Hannah!" Lyra exclaimed,

"And thanks' for the warning."

"Hey," said Pan, "I think something's up with that Potter kid. Apparently

the magesterium's after him too!"

"Don't you mean the MINISTRY, and how do you know?" said George.

"We daemons have certain powers you wouldn't understand."

Lyra failed to stifle the hysterical laughter that came pouring out of her.

"Right Pan, 'powers''

Pan turned his snout up in mock disgrace, "Really, Lyra. I thought you knew."

Lyra quickly sobered up, "No, really, Pan. I think they're connected! You heard what she said on the first day about progress being prohibited. She's totally a gobbler. Wouldn't be surprised if she were Mrs. Coulter back from the dead. It's sure it's the perfect reincarnation."

And with that they both began roaring in laughter; something they hadn't done for almost a year.

Harry still hadn't quite gotten over last night's dream, and he could have sworn that she was watching him in the Defense Against the Dark Arts room. Somehow, he was sure she was hiding something, and that something was about him. He'd seen some sort of rodent in the corner of the classroom. No one had really noticed it, but it looked at him with very human eyes. His best guess was that she was an animagus, and somehow could be in two places at once. It seemed impossible, but impossible was a word he hadn't used in a long, long time.

_**End of chapter six**_


	7. Pride

**CHAPTER SEVEN: PRIDE**

Harry glared at her from across the table

"I really don't get why you don't just talk to Fred and George about it," Ron said thickly through a mouthful of kipper.

"That girl has been driving you mad since the first day of school."

"Yeah," Hermione added, "Or you can just confront this Brooks girl yourself so we can get on with our lives!"

Their conversation was halted by a chortling in the distance.

"Well, well, well," came Malfoy's drawling voice, "It seems as though Potter's found love. What's it like crushing on a first year?"

"You're disgusting," Hermione hissed.

"Shut up, Granger."

Lizzie Brooks turned around quickly, "You do know I can hear you all from here, right?" she shouted at them.

"Aw, look, it's your little girlfriend." Malfoy shouted.

"Will both of you shut you traps for a second? I know why Potter 'ent confronted me yet. He's too proud. The 'famous Harry Potter' has to figure it out on his own, so he'll get all the credit!"

"Apparently _someone's_ been listening to Snape," Ron said.

"Yes I have. You should try it sometime, and maybe you'll stop failing Potions along with every other subject known to man."

"And how do you know that?" Harry said defensively.

"Let me teach you a little lesson, Potter. Sometimes, the good guys don't always win. Some of us 'ent showered with praise every step we take. Sometimes we end up saving the universes a million times until we end up living on the street, twitching every time we hear words that remind us of the past. Some of us are living on the run, just waiting for the bad guys to catch us. Then, just maybe, you'd have the right to dignity!" Lyra shouted proudly.

A round of applause from Fred and George silenced Ron's next retort.

"That was beautiful," Fred said, pretending to wipe away tears.

"Yes," replied George, "That will go down in the insult hall of fame! Sorry, Harry, but she deserved that one."

"You showed him," said Malfoy.

"Shut up you little snot- nosed urchin," Lyra said cheerfully, " 'Cause I've got another speech prepared especially for you."

This gained another ovation from the twins.

They were all so enraged that they hadn't noticed Dumbledore standing behind them.

"Miss Brooks, may I see you in my office?" he said calmly.

"Oooh! Little Miss Spastic got busted!" said Malfoy.

"Shut up," said a voice that seemed to come from nowhere.

"What was that?" Ron said nervously.

"Ah, probably Peeves up to no good. Lizzie, please come with me."

"Nice move, Pan. Now we're really in for it."

'Well, sorry! I was just sticking up for us."

"Sorry isn't good enough. Now what are we going to do. This guys gonna land us right where we started. What'll we do now, GO HOME?"

"Shh! He'll hear us!"

"Cockroach clusters." said Dumbledore as the gargoyle in front of his office door sprang out of the way.

"Do NOT flinch, do NOT flinch" Lyra whispered to herself.

"It's all right, you can flinch. Everyone does."

"Of course, because YOU have to know EVERYTHING."

As long as she was doomed anyway, she might as well have a little fun, right?

"I see your daemon has settled, quite unusual for a first year, eh?" Dumbledore asked calmly.

Lyra froze in her tracks, "H- how do you know about..."

"Well, I have to know EVERYTHING, don't I."

Lyra knew that no amount of lying would fix this. "Please, sir. I ent goin' back there. They'll eat me alive, I swear!"

"I have a feeling you'll be needed here quite soon, Lyra."

"You ent going to tell no one, are you?" she said defensively.

"There are many secrets in the wizarding world..."

She held her breath.

"But there's always room for more."

_**end of chapter seven**_


	8. More Surprises

**CHAPTER EIGHT: MORE SURPRISES**

Professor Dumbledore's office was unlike any she'd ever seen, even in Oxford. The paintings on the wall, like the ones in the hallways, moved freely on their own, and sometimes disappeared altogether. She supposed they were all the old masters, because there were so many of them. There was a large bowl in the corner, with a mass of swirling mist inside it. To her repeated horror, his phoenix daemon was kept in a cage.

"Relax," said Dumbledore, "Fawkes is simply a companion, my daemon is not visible."

"Okay, how do you know all this stuff about me?"

"Oh, I think you know the answer to that," he said, "Do you have the alithiometer?"

"Yeah..." she said, taking it out, "Pan, he already knows, you don't have to hide."

To her surprise, Dumbledore pulled a slightly smaller, more polished alithiometer out of his desk drawer.

"Here is your answer, Lyra," he said calmly, pushing the device toward her.

She gaped at it. She never realized there were alithiometers outside her world.

"So, have we come to an agreement, Lyra?"

She nodded.

"I 'ent telling if you 'ent."

"Good, I don't want students to start doubting the knowledge I already have."

Ever since the situation at lunch, Harry was teased by the Slytherins even more about Lizzie Brooks.

"Into younger women, are you, Harry!" laughed Pansy Parkinson. Harry, along with his friends, kept their heads down for a while, something Harry wasn't used to doing. Lizzie's speech was starting to get to him, and not ever Ron or Hermione ever reassured him that she was wrong. The truth echoed inside his head, THEY DON'T SAY THAT BECAUSE IT'S TRUE. Lizzie talked to

Dumbledore a lot, and he was pushed to the side. HE'S GOT A NEW FAVORITE NOW! The little voice insulted him throughout the weeks, and it became more and more apparent. He may have been the boy who lived, but living wasn't good enough anymore.

"Well, at least Malfoy has shut up!" Hermione said cheerfully.

"That's just because the Brooks girl has it in with Dumbledore!" Harry screamed, storming off. Not even his friends could lie through their teeth for him. The truth was too blunt to ignore. He needed to find out more about this Brooks girl. She was definitely more than she appeared.

_**End of chapter eight**_


	9. Flying, Swimming, and Questions

**CHAPTER NINE: DISCOVERY**

Pan, for the first time in his life, was glad he could go far from Lyra. She had come to appreciate it too. Because of this ability, both were able to explore the castle without seeming conspicuous. Currently, Lyra was in potions, a class that she had grown to like. For one thing, Professor Snape seemed to be the only teacher who didn't boast about the "Great Boy Who Lived", and she'd always had a liking for deceiving people, as many potions did.

Pan decided to snoop around Dumbledore's office today. It was a pretty interesting place to look at. There were millions of gadgets and mysterious objects all around the room, and Lyra had given him more of a liking for exploring, especially now that they had learned so many ways to cover their tracks in charms.

Just as Pan had scaled the picture of a very snobbish looking Headmistress, he noticed the swirling pool of mist inside the unusually large basin on the table below him. They had spotted it on the way in, and it had always interested him. Because of this momentary distraction, his hands began to slip, and he fell down into the depths of the basin, instantly regretting his visit here.

Harry was growing sick of Umbridge's constant detentions. His hands were already beginning to scar, and it hurt like hell. Even more than that he was sick of Umbridge denying anything was wrong while making sure they FORGOT as much defense against the dark arts as possible. The first week of school seemed to never end, and he just hoped he would make it out alive.

Lyra had just begun another boring Defense Against the Dark Arts class when a sudden urge came to her. She had heard from Pan before about the incident involving the Potter boy, and wanted to get to the bottom of this. She also hadn't had a laugh in a while and wanted to see how the class would react, so she did the unthinkable and raised her hand.

"Yes," Umbrige said in an annoyingly feminine voice.

"Who's Lord Voldemort"

She heard the thudding sound of someone fainting in the back of the room and several whimpers and gasps.

"That is a name we don't say in the classroom. Now, why would you ask that?" she said.

Lyra put on the most innocent voice possible and said "Well, everyone seems to be making a huge fuss over him and I was just wondering…"

"Lord Voldemort is long gone, and there's no use learning about it now"

At the moment a small boy raised his hand in the back of the class.

"That's not what Dumbledore says, he says…"

"Dumbledore is a very old man who does not have the sense that he used to have."

A girl with freckles and black hair raised her hand,

"But what about Harry Potter, he says that…"

"Enough about that; Twenty points from Griffindor" she said too sweetly, "Now turn to page 8 if you haven't already…. Now."

Pan was walking through a misty haze until he abruptly crashed down onto a short grey staircase. A homely young woman who was very pregnant walked into a frightful looking shop. There were statues, and gadgets, and even severed body parts, all looking rather grim and eerie.

She walked up to the counter and handed the man a gold necklace with a serpentine S etched into the metal. Her face was one of the saddest he had seen since the land of the dead.

"Five galleons"

"Ten"

"Six"

"Eight"

"Deal," the man said after that brief period of haggling. He handed the woman eight shiny gold coins. She took them greedily and walked out of the room, a faint half smile on her face. He had seen Lyra with that same look on her face after they left Will and Kirjava. It was a look of heartbreak. He immediately felt deep sympathy for the woman, whoever she may have been, and followed her out in silence. No one had seemed to notice him. He quickly realized what that basin was. It was a portal to other worlds, at least, he thought it was.

His sadness quickly turned to joy. They might be able to see Will again. If they had gotten this far, they could get further. He was in the misty pool again. He swam up to the surface and scampered away, too joyful to notice that he wasn't wet, and didn't know how they would find the right world again.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was over at long last, and Lyra was off to her first flying lesson.

"Up!" she said. The broom immediately flew into her hands. She felt an electricity flowing through her as she held the broom. A feeling of bravery and daring she had not felt in a long time flowed through her. She felt as if she could do anything she wanted at that exact moment.

"Now," Hooch said "Mount your brooms and slowly rise slightly above the ground."

She quickly mounted the broom and soared up to the sky, not thinking what the consequences would be. She felt amazing. The witches of the north said she would never fly, but she had more witch in her than she thought.

Only a shout of " BROOKS!" brought her literally down to earth.

"Oh *$%&" she thought, "Now you're really gonna get it"

She had just wasted whatever chances she had of safety. She was going to have to hide or worse: go back to where she came from.

_**End of chapter nine**_


	10. More of the Past

_**CHAPTER TEN: MORE OF THE PAST**_

__Lyra rocketed down to the ground, knowing flying away would rid her of all her chances of staying in the school. Rather than repremand her, Madame Hooch looked at her, shocked and smiling.

"I haven't seen a flyer this good since…"

"Let me guess, Potter," she said foolishly. She had a feeling Pan would've clawed her HARD if he were there.

"Yes actually. How remarkable. You should've tried out for Qudditch!"

Lyra gazed up at her with utter shock and gratitude. They spent the rest of class dragging down hopeful imitators from the air. She would've been happy if she hadn't been so annoyed with Potter. He was the Boy Who Lived, Everyone's Favorite Student, and now he was the greatest Quidditch player ever. When was it going to end? It was a wonder everyone considered him insane since he had been "so perfect" in every way. It made her like Snape even more despite his constant point subtractions for no particular reason.

It seemed suspicious when she thought about it more. What could he have possibly done to ruin such a great reputation. She had a feeling it had something to do with that Lord Voldemort bloke.

Why did everyone gasp at his name? Did she do the same thing Potter did? Her head was filled with questions whose answers no one would ever reveal to her. It seemed she would have to ask the only person who could possibly know: Potter himself.

Pan decided to go back to the basin in Dumbledore's office. It clearly had powers beyond the ones in this school, and he wanted to find out what they were. It might've been their only chance of seeing Will and Kirjava again. His heart pounded at the thought. He scrambled up the basin and leapt in…

Every now and then Harry couldn't help but think of the prophecy. He always felt a twinge of fear knowing only one could survive. Then again hadn't he assumed that all this time? He'd never really thought about death that much. It scared him, as it would anyone. It was hard to believe that in one moment everything would just vanish. He wondered what would happen after that. He shouldn't have been afraid to die, or so he thought, you're supposed to be brave.

"I must not tell lies" he wrote again on the parchment. It was the first day of his second week of detentions. Quidditch trials would be soon, and of course he would have to miss them. His hand was getting used to the pain, and the sharp sting became a dull, ever present ache. This was going to be a long week.

A world of foggy liquid surrounded pan as he drifted down, down into the lobby of a hotel, where a bride and groom stood at the desk. He soon recognized the bride as the woman who sold the necklace in the other world. This must've been the same one, he was glad to see her so happy. The young couple could barely take the key through their passionate kissing, they quickly ran up to the room and locked the door. He decided to leave the couple alone and go back to the fog, to find a different world than this one. Soon he was swimming again in the milky blue basin.

He came down with a crash in a large ballroom where a cold looking, but handsome boy, looking similar to the man in the hotel, sat at a table, looking bored. He reminded Pan of a younger Lord Asriel. He had no more time to contemplate it when a gasp came among a few boys in the distance.

In stepped a glamorous young girl with long, silky black hair and a red dress that flowed behind her, showing off a substantial amount of leg. The boy stood up, his face only showing a slight sense of surprise. That was funny, the woman looked just like a younger…

"Marisa Coulter," said one boy to another, staring at her.

The girl walked over to the table, looking very dignified and mysterious. Pan watched in other silence as a young Mrs. Coulter stood before the boy.

"Are you with anyone?"

The boy shook his head blankly. She dragged him up by the hands.

"Now you are."

The music played while they danced a sharp, seductive tango far superior than the gentle swaying of the other students.

"Where are you from?" The boy said, "I haven't seen you around school."

"I'm in Beuxbatons, at least for this year. I didn't get to go to the last tournament."

"I find the whole tournament thing a bore. I never really got the purpose of it all."

They turned sharply, promenading down the floor and, looking like they barely noticed.

"Where did you learn to dance like that?" he asked

Mrs. Coulter said "You learn a lot in France, and you?"

"Sometimes the orphanage ladies got bored and tried to teach us things. The only thing they were successful with was dancing."

They turned again.

"Do you realize how many people are staring at us?" he asked with little care.

"It happens" she said simply, in a slightly higher pitched- yet eerily reminiscent voice.

They carried on like this long into the night, and eventually began kissing passionately in the corner of the Slytherin common room.

Finally they both went their separate ways and Pan drifted back into the fog. The basin was definitely more than it seemed. Pan rushed off to get to Lyra.


	11. The Hog's Head

_**CHAPTER ELEVEN: THE HOGS HEAD**_

Winter was coming and the wind rattled against the pub windows. Lyra drank her butterbeer with Pan curled around her neck for warmth. She started coming here ever since Fred and George found a way to sneak her out of the castle. She went there to be alone and among her own kind. The scum of the streets and shady characters that no one remembers, despite all their daring adventures.

"So… my mum and dad might have been wizards?" She said, disgusted at herself for calling them 'mum and dad'.

"I'm not so sure that bloke's Lord Asriel. I don't know but he didn't look too much like him. He's thinner for one thing, and he had black hair. Who do you suppose he could be?"

"Dunno, it's wizarding world so we probably ent never heard of him."

"But… wow… Mrs. Coulter was a witch…"

"And she was horrid enough to kill em later, just another reason to hate her."

After that they sat in silence. Listening to the sounds of the pub and gulping down butterbeers. Suddenly, without any warning, the bells on the doors chimed and three students came in.

It was Potter and Friends.

"Ugh! The bloke's everywhere now!"

"Can't he just leave us alone?"

She watched as the other students crowded in, and Harry began to speak. She listened to him, and almost gained respect for him. He was planning on a defense against the dark arts club. It seemed interesting enough. She would need a new way to defend herself when she eventually would have to leave here, and she could for once be safe…

She scrawled her name on the sign up sheet. They looked at her in shock, and left without a word.

Marisa walked through the darkening streets of Hogsmeade. It all seemed so familiar, yet she did not remember seeing any of this in her life. Her golden monkey daemon looked around warily. She was dressed in a black cloak, her appearance having lost much of its stunningness, and her eyes were tired.

She saw an old, nearly abandoned pub and decided to go in for warmth. It was snowing outside and she was sure she would catch pneumonia if she stayed out any longer.

She was not exactly sure where she was, or how she got there, but she was too tired and relieved to really care. As she entered the shop she nearly had a heart attack. There, sitting at the counter, was Lyra.

She was also wearing a black cloak. She looked so much older than when she had last seen her. She decided that Lyra wouldn't speak to her if she revealed herself, so her daemon crept under her cloak as she put the hood further down over her face.

"Mead please," she said, forgetting that she didn't have any money.

"Hey, girl…" she said in a creaking voice sounding nothing like her own, "What are you doing in a place like this?"

"What's it mean to you," she said, skeptical as usual, "This place is for people who don't want to be talked to."

She sat there in silence, simply happy they were both alive and well. She had been falling down the abyss, but, in a strange event, she thought of something… of another place, and she appeared there without warning. She was ashamed of what she had done. She had killed what her entire organization was fighting for, and was wanted by no one.

Her first job was to remember where she was, and what she was doing. She had been bordering on delirium in that abyss, with Asriel dead in her arms.

She felt purposeless, with Asirel gone. Their constant battling seemed to be the only meaning in her life, and she had both one and lost. She had killed him. Now what? She walked out of the pub in a daze, and into the night.

Harry was very confused. And very afraid. This Brooks girl was so… unexpected. She would slink in the shadows and appear when he least expected it. She was like a cat that would strike at any moment. She had signed up for the Defense Organization or whatever they were going to call it, and he was even more puzzled.

Did she hate him, or not? He really didn't want an enemy, not when everyone was against him. They refused to listen to the truth of the matter. Come to think of it, she was the only person who never expressed whether she believed him or not. She didn't seem to make sense at all.

Why was she a first year if she was so much older than that? Why did she have that strange vengeance against him, and why was he so afraid of her. No one since Voldemort had scared him as much.

He didn't like the unknown, and he didn't like her. She was too mysterious, and too wise. She seemed to know so many things he didn't, and held him on a string. He felt he would have to figure her out before he could figure out Voldemort.

There was still one question he had never bothered to answer, or even think of in the very back of his mind:

Why do you care so much about this Brooks girl? What did she ever do to you?

She made him feel weak, and stupid. She seemed to be standing in this way. He suspected she wasn't really a witch. Maybe she wasn't really a person.

He was too afraid, and too proud to tell Ron or Hermione about it, though it kept him up at night.

Well, he supposed it was better to stay up thinking than to slip into dreaming…


	12. Marisa

CHAPTER TWELVE: MARISA

"I wonder whatever happened to her," he grumbled to himself. He looked down at his hideous, transparent hands. He had become a monster. He used to be handsome once, but it seemed like a long time ago, and there were times that he would be satisfied with just being human, but shut out the idea. But he couldn't help but wonder why he was building an empire that he didn't even want. He thought he did, a long time ago. The song of immortality drew him to his destiny like a siren, and there was no turning back.

But oh, she was beautiful, with long black hair and ivory skin, and she felt so warm in his arms. He remembered when he could feel warmth…

The hostage had stopped his muffled screaming, and was just intent on glaring at him with burning brown eyes. He wasn't entirely sure why he had taken this one either. He was fighting against the very people that had persecuted he himself so many years ago, but he knew the boy would cause him nothing but trouble. He hadn't even bothered to learn his name. He just felt that there was some significance to the child, and he was intended to be the only significant one, but he envied the child. The child had fight and red blood flowing through his veins, the things he would never have again.

Oh, but she was so beautiful then… so beautiful…

He walked down the dark corridor again, but somehow it seemed so different. He felt there was something else behind that door, something important. He ran toward it with blinding speed, and grasped the handle, throwing it open.

And he saw a strange glass orb on a high shelf. It was a red glass heart, spilling water that turned red as it splashed against the ground, but the glass heart slowly tipped over, and fell to the ground, shattering into a million pieces. He looked ahead and saw the bench again, with two figures sitting there.

One was a handsome, but cruel and vain looking man he knew he'd seen before, the other was the girl. They both looked up at him with sad, hopeless eyes, his brown and seemingly cold, and hers golden and full of rage. A single tear rolled down her face, and mingled with the puddle, swirling with red dye. The dye separated from the water, like oil, and drifted away, leaving a somehow sickening clear liquid, and the shattered heart turned grey, then became transparent, before disappearing entirely.

"Hello, Harry," Cho said, catching him by surprise.

"Oh… hi…" he said, looking awkwardly down at his feet. He looked up and saw her deep brown eyes. They held a sadness he had seen in his dream last night. He felt as though that sadness was within him too, but he wasn't sure how or why.

It had been four months since Cedric had died. He had barely had a chance to live, but he supposed, with Voldemort being back, he may have been one of the lucky ones. The Brooks girl passed them by, making sure not to lay eyes on him.

"Well that Brooks girl is acting strange, don't you think?"

"Yeah… I mean I guess so. Wasn't it weird how she was at the bottom of the list during the sorting?"

"It feels like she doesn't belong here, you know. Feels like she's hiding something from us."

"I don't know, I never thought about it. She's kind of like you, you know… mysterious…"

Was she flirting with him? Of course she wasn't… but maybe she was. Oh, how he hoped she was. It could be just a coincidence, or they could be soul mates. What was he doing just standing there?

"I guess so… she's also a little like you… umm…"

OF COURSE SHE WASN'T! What was he doing, comparing her to the little girl that lurked wherever he went.

"I'd better be going… nice talking to you, Harry."

"Yeah… uh…see you…"

He cursed himself for how stupid he was. She was flirting with you and you ruined it! What if she really wasn't flirting with you. Ugh!

Those dreams where throwing him off. When would the Brooks girl get out of his mind?

Marisa wandered, dazed still, through the pitch black streets of town. She was frightened and alone, and felt like a little girl in one of those stories people told to teach children lessons, "and you should never go out in the dark alone", she heard her grandfather say.

Oh, but she was alone. She felt she had been stumbling for miles, with no intention of stopping. After what seemed like an eternity, there was a light in the distance. It was an old shack with smoke in the chimney and a fire blazing inside. She walked up to it and knocked on the door.

"Hello?" said a gigantic, hairy man who had answered the door. An equally gargantuan dog stood behind him, barking like mad and snarling. She cringed at the sound.

"Now behave, Fang!"

"Um… I'm sorry to bother you, but I seem to be lost, and its very dark out," she said, leaning in toward the glow behind him.

"Marisa… is that you?"

"Yes… how do you know me."

"Rubeus Hagrid! I had already been expelled when you came, but I remember you. You were the prettiest lass from Beuxbatons, how're you?"

"Umm… well not very well at the moment. I can barely remember who I am.

What was she doing, revealing her weaknesses to a total stranger. He seemed trustworthy enough…

"Well come on in, we can't have you out here in the cold."

"Thank you very much, sir."

And, for that moment, despite the austerity of the shack, as she found it full of monstrous things… she had a feeling, at least for now, that she was safe at last.


	13. Morning

_**CHAPTER THIRTEEN: MORNING**_

Marisa awoke in a dingy but soft bed. She bolted up with a start, to find her head spinning as the filthy room seemed to revolve around her head. She had a hazy memory of the night before that began to grow clearer. She had learned to be fearful of places like these.

"Oh, good mornin' there. Ye gave me quite a start last nite yeh did."

"Wha…"

"Yeh don't remember. No sooner had yeh come to my house when yeh passed out, dead on the floor. I put you someplace warm fer the night. It's dreadful cold out there," said a strangely familiar, incredibly large man who seemed to be making tea on a potbelly stove. She seemed to be in a strange little shack full of rotting meat and strange creatures. A large dog came up to her, covering her sleeve in drool. She was beginning to remember in snippets. She had been in an abyss for so long. She didn't remember a lot of things, although she felt almost certain they would turn up before long.

It was a dreadful feeling, being vulnerable and weak as she felt. She was always in control, if not, horrible things ensued. But for now she felt there was nothing more for her to do but lie back and stare at the ceiling. It was a cold, grey dawn with a sun the size of a coin blazing between the clouds. The ceiling was whitewashed and paint was peeling. The whole place was stuffy and let in little light. But it was warm, and it was almost vaguely familiar, as that man was. But she had a feeling he was lost in the jumbled haze that was her mind. She was safe from the abyss, and that was all that mattered.

Poor Asriel was dead soon after they fell, and she was near to it when she left. She realized she hadn't eaten in weeks. Her cheeks and eyes were sunken and her arms bony and frail. Some strange rock cakes came out of the oven. He tossed her one, and she gobbled it greedily, regretting not having made sure it wasn't poisoned. They were hard on her teeth, but she didn't care. It was food, and she needed it. She felt so very dizzy, and the food dropped into her stomach like a stone. She wasn't sure how long he would let her stay here, but decided not to question that just yet. The room was beginning to stop its spinning. She gulped down the scalding tea, not caring about the pain, and all at once she felt much better, and much much worse. It swirled around in her stomach like a tempest tossed sea.

She felt so very strange. The large man looked at her, concerned.

"You recall anuthing about the night before… not even before that."

"Vaguely," she said, "I've gone without food and rest for so long… thank you…"

She was flustered as well. They stayed in there for a few hours, talking in little spurts. The man was caring. That was something, wasn't it? She had a feeling he was safe despite his hulking stature.

"Sorry miss. Got to go teach now. You stay here and don't yeh fret. Yeh need yer sleep from the looks of it."

He left, shutting the door as gingerly as he could, and walked into the mob of children outside. She was too tired and dazed to be amazed or frightened by any of the strange things she saw, and decided it was safe to close her eyes for just a little bit longer…

Harry decided to walk by Hagrid's house. He still wasn't on great terms with him, so he didn't dare knock on the door. He walked around back to see a face peer at him from behind the tiny window. It was a grown woman, and a pretty one at that, who looked troubled. She had wild black hair and a thin, starving face. She stared up from the cot in the corner. Hagrid generally used it for the larger sick creatures. She appeared to be one herself. Her large golden eyes looked at him with a strange, almost inhuman expression. She leaned back on the bed. She seemed incredibly weak. He couldn't help but walk in the front door to find out what the matter was.

"Hagrid… I know we haven't spoken since… since the other day," he said, recalling Hagrid's previous rage, "But I couldn't help but notice the lady in the cot…"

"Come on in. I think she's woken up again. Strange woman. Looks like one o me old schoolmates, but she's mighty strange. She came in me door last night an flat out fainted."

"Who… what?" she said, in a voice like honey. She was strangely hypnotizing. She was probably a head turner in her health. Harry could see that.

"Marisa? This is me friend Harry. He takes me class."

"Uh, hello," she said, shaking her head as if she had water in her ears.

"You feelin better, Marsie?"

"Don't call me that," she said, almost instinctually, "Sorry… too much too fast. Uh…" She was at a loss for words, and seemed like she was trying to recall a distant memory. There had been a lot of strange newcomers to Hogwarts.

Come to think of it, the woman looked a bit like the Brooks girl. Same golden eyes and skin, and same nose and mouth. But the woman's hair was long, thick, and black as night, unlike Lizzie's tangled golden mane.

"Don't you worry. It's good yer rememberin that name. Lots o kids called yeh that. I know yeh hate it."

"Oh… all right then."

She seemed to absorb their every word, like a sponge. Her tanned skin began to turn sickly green.

"Oh, god," she said, limping to the sink.

"Ben like that all morning. I don't think she can handle the food yet. Seems to be a starvin' thing. Yeh know, the worst thing yeh can do to a starvin' person is feed em. I shouldn't o done that. She can't help herself. I can see why."

She gasped, turning sickly pale.

"Yeh better be leavin, got to figure out what to do wif her. Gnite Harry."

"Gnite," Harry said, realizing it was one of the only things he had said since he got there. There was another intruder to Hogwarts. He had a feeling she would be around for a long while.


	14. Assumptions

_**CHAPTER FOURTEEN: ASSUMPTIONS**_

Will heard screams coming from behind him. He cringed a moment but was beginning to get used to it. He had a permanent dull, pit-like feeling in his stomach that only happened with impending doom. He was gaining a dull acceptance and indifference about his fate. He wasn't sure why he was there, or who the man with the snake eyes was, and, after a while, it didn't seem to matter. He remembered her face, newly freckled from the hot sun, laughing at him as the buttery sun beat down, turning her a dark golden shade. He didn't think of Lyra as often as he had thought, but whenever he looked down at his mutilated stump of a hand, he couldn't help but remember. He had gained a sort of acceptance of her too.

"CRUCIO! CRUCIO!" cried the pale skinned woman with the beady black eyes. More screams came. He didn't understand what it was they wanted with him. They seemed to have no intention of killing him, but the overhanging presence of death was not completely unfamiliar to him. It was far past Midsummer's Day, and he was sure Lyra would be disappointed, possibly heartbroken, though he knew she wasn't weak enough to cry. He was headed toward the bench that day when the snake man's assistant came and bagged him. There was nothing said, and no questions asked. He was simply thrown in there. He gathered clues from what he had heard and caught a glance of.

It seemed the snake man and the pale woman were in a strange, love hate relationship. They reminded him of Asriel and Mrs. Coulter, their passion constantly changing. One minute they were at each others throats, the next they were throwing themselves at each other, though these two were a lot more subtle. It was clear the snake man had many servants, and didn't seem to care very much about any of them. He was frail yet somehow mighty, and had power beyond which even the snake man himself could comprehend. He had seen "men" like him before. But he thought that part of his life was over. Little did he know it had scarcely begun.

He was surprised to find that not much had changed in his life since he found the window, and found her. The men were gone, and his mother would still go into her episodes, though they were less frequent. He still had a father he knew very little about, and still lived in the same shabby house in England. He still went to school, and still got in fights. He still kept the letters that his mother had hidden for so long, and they still hid the groceries whenever they went shopping. Life had very few changes in it. If anything, it was the absence of change that got to him. It was the absence of a way out, and the absence of windows to her. He had sealed them, and there was no turning back. And there were still nights he wondered, though he chastised himself later, whether those rotten Citagazze kids were really worth it, and whether a few specters running loose would really make a difference. But, as a knife bearer, he still had had a lot to learn when he had destroyed the knife. He still didn't know that not all of the windows, were truly windows, and not all of the windows were shut.

The illicit club was beginning to get into full swing. It had taken a while, but he had done it. And he watched the Lizzie girl from afar, taking in his every word with a glare, and performing the spells with fierceness in her eyes. She was a good, but unpredictable. Once her expelliarmus sent poor George flying against the wall, the next she crumpled to the ground with a failed protego. She hadn't really done anything remarkable until he began patronuses.

She stared about them, her eyes lighting up with curiosity and a warm feeling of home as the misty animals came out of their wands.

"You got daemons!" she cried, full of childish joy, "I knew you did!"

"What?"

"What do you mean. You're not one of those religious types are you?"

Her joy was extinguished with fear and skeptecism as she stared at these figures. They were barely apparent, looking more like blue smoke than any daemon she knew of. Maybe that was all they were, or maybe they didn't have full daemons. She knew anyone could see them in a certain light, but wondered why the light was so dim.

"Lizzie," Harry said nervously, "Why don't you try?"

"Oh…" she said, looking around startledly, "All right…"

She closed her eyes and thought of Will, and Iorek, and Roger, and Lee Scoresby, and all of the gyptians, and a feeling of warmth began to swell within her.

"Expecto petronum."

The light began to slowly unravel from her wand. She was puzzled. Why wasn't Pan going anywhere?"

The smoke began to grow and grow, taking a gargantuan shape. No sooner had the students seen it form when an earth- shaking roar echoed about the room. They looked up to see a giant, smokey armored polar bear. She looked up at it, looking as if she were about to faint.

He looked vaguely like Iorek, but a distorted, changed, youthful Iorek who looked proud an unafraid. She almost didn't like him, but had a strange feeling of familiarity with him. Someone applauded and soon claps echoed around the Room of Requirement. She had done something great, but she wasn't entirely sure what.


	15. Desire

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: DESIRE

His brown eyes stared into her golden ones. They never said a single word, but just sat, facing each other. He seemed almost like a ghost, or a vision. She felt no need to speak. Pan stared, wide eyed at Kirjava, but there was a tiny feeling in the back of his mind that it wasn't real, none of it was. The sun was setting behind her and no one entered the room, she felt as though she should speak, but was at a loss as of what to say. It seemed they could talk for a hundred years but never get anywhere. She almost felt that her speaking would break the spell. It wasn't for another hour, until she heard the footsteps behind her, that the image disappeared.

"Lizzie…" he said, walking on eggshells behind her.

"Oh… what. Oh, it's you…"

"Well, uh, hi. I… see you found the mirror of the erised."

"The what?" she said, sad that the dream was over.

"You see, that mirror only shows you what you want most of all. I found this my first year too."

She sighed. "Seems to me you did all of this your first year. I'm not like you, you know. I never will be."

He knew she would get defensive. He spoke slowly and gently, knowing somehow that she was unaware of the tears rolling down her cheeks.

"No, I guess you're not. You're better. I hate to admit it, but you are. If you don't mind me asking… what do you… see exactly?"

She seemed to finally snap out of the trance, aware of her own tears.

"What's it with you being all nice to me suddenly. Seemed to me like you hated me."

Harry suddenly felt a strange sensation. He felt as though this girl had been through all that he had, and more. He felt as though he could suddenly tell her anything in the world, and she would understand. She was nothing like him. She was more than he could ever imagine being. This small, wiry girl was full of mystery, and full of memories. He could tell.

"I never hated you. I'm just… scared."

"Of what?" she said, suddenly curious, "The famous Harry Potter? Scared?"

"Of you. Believe it or not, I like you. And I think I know what's in that mirror. I think I see almost the same thing."

"Oh, really?" raising one eyebrow, "Do you?"

"My parents died when I was a baby…"

"Well, everyone knows that."

"And I see them standing beside me. Are you an orphan, if you don't mind me asking…"

"I see one thing in that mirror, and it ent me parents. You could say I'm an orphan. I've only known me parents for a year, my dad was my uncle for a long time. If anything, I wish I were an orphan so I wouldn't have to worry about them… They never loved me anyway…"

"Oh I'm sure they do… did?"

"Don't know if they're alive, don't care. My mother's tried to kill me before, and worse."

"Oh… well…. that's…."

"A pity? A shame? I hope they're dead. Neither of them ever wanted me. Only one person really did. I mean, the others loved me, but not like this… he was the only one," she stared off vacantly, "The only one…"

"Well… if you'd rather not talk about it…"

"Well, if you'd rather not listen."

He hated to say it, but he was intrigued by her.

"Who… who were they?"

"As if you'd know. I can't tell you that. I ent trustin mister Famous Harry Potter with that."

"Listen, I didn't want to be-"

"I know, and you don't deserve it either. But that ent the point. At least you don't remember. At least you HAD parents…"

He sat there in silence.

"I WISH I were in a spot like yours!"

"SOMEONE WANTS TO KILL ME!"

"Oh, well lots of people want to kill me. My mother wants to kill me… she nearly did too… she gave me up when I was born and then tried to make me like her… like HER!"

She thrashed herself against the mirror.

"I'm… sorry…"

"Oh what would you know! You don't even know what I see. Oh it's all cute and nice, you seein yer PARENTS. I wish… No, I don't," then she looked him straight in the eye "You will NEVER know what it's like to not be patted on the back EVERY TIME you do the right thing. EVERY time! No one knows what I do, and no one can know. You can't even know my real NAME!"

"Wait, what?"

"Nothing…" she said. If she kept going on like this she would lose her cover. What was wrong with her?

He stared at her, an awkward silence between them. He wasn't sure if he should question her further. Then finally, after five solid minutes of silence, he managed to whisper:

"Oh. Well then, what do you see?"

"You wouldn't get it."

"Of course you wouldn't."

"Well… try me."

She sighed, feeling as though she could tell him.

"A long time ago, there was a boy that I met. He had people after him too… We can't be together anymore, and I love him. I think I always will. You ever loved anyone like that?"

"Well…" he thought of Cho, "well… no…"

"And every Midsummers day we would meet, if just for an hour. Last midsummer I wound up here. Haven't seen him in two years," she said, tears still streaming down her face despite her lucid speech.

He thought of Cho again, with her silky black hair. She was beautiful, but… he never wondered if he really loved her or if that was all. She was like this girl, only Cedric could never come back.

"What was his name?"

"You think I'd tell YOU that?"

"Well… why can't you see him anymore?"

"That's the trouble, I can't tell anyone. Not even Fred and George know all the details. He's not from where I am."

"Like, a different country…"

"You could say that."

And so they sat there in silence, staring at the mirror, with their true loves crowded around them, smiling in silence. And, for at least that moment, there was no fear, or jealousy, or ego. There were just two poor orphaned children who were lost and afraid, and only had each other to guide themselves home.

And though they both thought of it, they couldn't dare say it…

They were more alike than they would admit.

He looked into a mirror and saw her. She was beautiful, as she always was, with golden hair and eyes that shone in the small ray of sunlight. She looked hazy, as if she would fade away with the slightest breeze. He reached out to touch her and she vanished with a blood curdling scream that faded and faded into nothingness as the mirror shattered, raining onto him…

Will awoke to find himself in the same darkened room as he heard the snake eyed man shouting upstairs. He knew she would never come back, but every now and then he saw her, in a dream or in a vision. He knew she was closer than he expected, but feared her fate.

It pained him to know that if he had the knife, he could have had her in his arms, safe and sound in a world of their own. But that dream had long died with his will to fight and survive. He just lay, his head on the cold brick, covered in bruises, staring at the little ray of light shining like Lyra's lion eyes.


	16. Detention and Despair

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: DETENTION

Dolores Umbridge crossed herself as she dropped the vile wand she was holding. She was sure whatever had powered it must be affiliated with Dust. She tried to avoid seeing and using them as much as she could, for she knew only victory would allow her to not be punished in the afterlife. The door creaked as a student entered. It was the new girl, Lizzie Brooks.

"I was told I had detention here..."

"Yes, sit down."

The whole thing went as usual, until she began to write. The page said the standard "I must not tell lies" The girl grimaced but took the pain without complaint. She'd heard about this before no doubt, and already knew what she was in for.

I must not tell lies

I must not tell lies

I must not tell lies

She wrote on and on at a steady pace, wincing in pain but never yielding. She knew not to show weakness in front of enemies. She was almost happy that she'd received a detention. It gave her time to observe things more closely.

Miss Umbridge watched her intently, waiting for her to show any sign of complaint, to slow slightly or to pause, but she didn't. Lyra stared back, inspecting the woman. She was one of the ugliest people Lyra had ever seen, with wide, watery eyes and a large, toad-like mouth.

At first it seemed there was nothing of importance in her office. It was adorned with doilies and gaudy pictures of kittens, tumbling about within the frames. But once she looked deeper she began to see the darkness behind the overuse of pastels.

There was an eerie coldness emanating throughout the room. Everything seemed to be incredibly sterile and lifeless. She kept writing

I must not tell lies

I must not tell lies

I must not tell lies

The woman also was the first wizard who kept as far away from her wand as possible. Whenever she glanced at it was with a sick look of contempt. There was something very suspicious about Miss Umbridge, and Lyra decided to use this detention to her advantage.

The frail, inhuman creature known as Lord Voldemort stared vacantly at the wall. People always assumed his thoughts only rested on what worlds to conquer and wizards to kill, but there was more than that. He could dream, and he could remember, and more importantly, he could regret.

What do you even want with this kingdom anyway? After you take over, then what? Spite your father? He died years ago. Avenge your mother? She was a squib and you know it. No, you'll just sit here day in and day out, doing exactly what you're doing now. You know it's not what you really want. Maybe it was a long time ago, but it's too late to stop now. Yield and the world will kill you...

But suppose you don't mind...

No one dared disturb his reveries. He was the Dark Lord, and he could violently turn on them at any second. No one knew about his life before. He made sure of that. But, despite being the embodiment of pure evil, there was one thing he regretted most, in the midst of it.

"Marisa..." he whispered to himself.

He'd tried to keep the memory of the last time he saw her face out of mind, but now it came forth with a vengeance.

I'd aimed the Cruciatus curse at the old man, I swear. I never meant it for her. She ran into the room to warn me... someone was coming. I hardly remember who the old man was, or whoever was coming for that matter, I only remember her face. Her fear. She writhed in pain, falling to the floor. Her face turned ashy white and her eyes wide. She made no sound, only twisted in agony on the floor. Then she slumped over, unconscious, shaking uncontrollably like a leaf from the shock. I couldn't believe what I had done. I ran to her and put my wand to her temple. I remember the spell; I'd invented it myself.

"Eran Recuerdus" I whispered.

She relaxed; going limp, and her face became peaceful again. I kissed her one last time and opened a window to another world, gently sliding her through. I remembered her face. Even then it was beautiful... so beautiful...

Every day he wondered what had become of Marisa Coulter. He still didn't know how much of her memory exactly he had erased. What had been left behind? He hoped she was happy, wherever she was...

"Pan! I'm positive she's a gobbler?"

"But what proof do you have?" he insisted.

"I just know! She's creepy!"

"I agree with you, but you can't just assume that!"

"If only we still had the alethiometer. Then we'd know for sure."

"Yeah, but we don't, so we're just going to have to figure this out on our own," said Pan.

"Hey, remember that bowl thingy in Dumbledore's office?"

"Yeah..."

"You reckon it could help us find out whether she's a gobbler or not?"

"I doubt it. It only takes you to other worlds..."

"But then we could get out of here. I need to see this thing!"

"Are you suggesting we sneak into Dumbledore's office?"

"What do you think?" she said sarcastically.

Pan sighed, "Or, you know, we could just ask him..."

"Oh you're no fun! Fred and George sneak around this school all the time. We could get in there right now if we wanted to."

Pan sighed, "I suppose we could. But then we'd get expelled. You're already on thin ice as it is."

"Hey, I bet Potter does it all the time. They're starting' to treat me like they treat him. I don't think they'll really mind."

"Depends on who catches you."

"Well I'm going anyway," she said, crossing her arms indignantly.

"I suppose you are..." Pan said, exasperated.

"That's the spirit! Now come on, let's go!"

They snuck through the secret passageway Fred had told them about and arrived before the stone gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office.

"Cockroach clusters," she said, and the gargoyle obediently jumped to the side.

She was relieved to find the office empty. So she didn't have to make any excuses for being there. She walked up to the swirling basin.

"That don't look anything like the windows Will made."

"No, it doesn't. But don't let it fool you Lyra, it's the same thing."

"All right, I guess I'll take your word for it. So... do I just, hop in?"

"I don't know how people do it exactly, but I guess you sort of just lean in there and fall in. Like this."

Pan fell into the swirling mist and vanished. Lyra followed behind him.

She fell in just in time for Dumbledore to enter the office. He saw her just as she was about to vanish.

He sighed, "These Griffindore's, always up to something."

He thought he'd wait a few minutes before getting her out again. It was always interesting to see when they'd wind up. He knew there was something different about this so- called Brooks girl. She had potential he'd seen in very few wizards before her, and even fewer witches. And he had a feeling she would live up to that potential when it mattered most. Children like her almost always did.


End file.
